


The Safeword Is Proudwing: Session 2

by aunt_zelda



Series: Chataya's Exchange (AU) [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BDSM, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Flogging, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Marking, Master/Servant, Orgasm Denial, Painkillers, Painplay, Professional Dom, Restraints, Roleplay, Sex Work, Spreader Bars, Verbal Humiliation, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 12:24:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1982898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stannis has a stressful week at Baratheon Inc., and talks plot with Mel about the soon-to-be-vacated position of CEO. Stannis has his second session with Davos, who gets much rougher than the first time, at Stannis' request. Plans are made for the third session.</p><p>Did I mention there's whipping and belting? Because there is. And spreader bars. </p><p> </p><p>(I've has a stressful week myself, so this isn't the most enticing summary.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safeword Is Proudwing: Session 2

**Author's Note:**

> It's a good idea to read the first part before this one, otherwise you might be a little confused as to why Stannis is a CFO and visiting a professional dom.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry I took so long with this! First there was plot and then there was me trying to plan out future fics for this series and then work and life and this summer is vanishing too fast! D:
> 
> Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy this. Please let me know if I left out any tags that need tagging. 
> 
> Comments make me squee, kudos make me smile!

On Thursday, waiting until next Wednesday to see Davos again hadn’t seemed like that much of a wait. 

Then, Cersei had officially filed for divorce. Publically. At a press conference. And called Robert’s leadership of Baratheon Inc. into question. This had apparently been the final push for the Board of Directors to start moving towards ousting Robert as CEO. Which had been coming for years, but the useless creatures had been too cowardly to try anything serious until now. 

It was a mess at the offices. Rumors were running rampant, fears of the company going under and their jobs being shipped overseas spreading like wildfire. Melisandre was getting the marketing department under control, but the other divisions weren’t keeping their heads. 

Monday brought the worst news of all: Renly, not Stannis, was the current favorite of the board for their nomination of the CEO due to replace Robert. 

“There’s also been talk of a foreigner, some young thing who made her fortune pioneering a horse breeding predictor model while she was still in college.” Mel confessed over her bento box. It was Monday, and Stannis was seething about the Renly rumors. 

Stannis bit into the apple slices Mel had handed him, in lieu of grinding his teeth. It was not nearly as comforting.

“What’s her name?” Stannis asked. Renly was always the favorite, but the board would soon see that he was all flash and no substance. A young innovator might be just what Baratheon Inc. needed, in the eyes of the board, one without local allegiances or drunken louts for older brothers. 

“Daenerys … Targaryen.”

Stannis froze. 

“Yes, one of those Targaryens.”

“Are they mad?” Stannis demanded. “Robert gutted their company years ago! If she wants to replace him as CEO, it’ll only be to burn Baratheon Inc. to the ground and dance on the ashes!”

Mel held up a hand in a vain attempt to placate him. “It’s only a rumor, Stannis, no need to be so … dramatic.”

Stannis glowered. He’d been called many things in his time at Baratheon Inc., but ‘dramatic’ had never been one of them. Renly was the dramatic one, the darling of the media circuit, the inventor of the viral marketing campaign that had boosted their stock out of a yearlong slump. 

“Anyways, it needn’t come to such drastic conclusions … if we can make the board see that you’re man for the job.” Mel smiled warmly, fingering the red stone necklace she’d worn every day that Stannis had known her. 

It wasn’t that Stannis wanted to wrest power from his brother, per se. He was perfectly content to be CFO. However, with Robert as CEO, it wasn’t difficult for Stannis to imagine himself taking over once Robert’s debauchery finally caught up with him. And it seemed as though that moment was fast approaching. 

“With you as CFO, I assume?” Stannis attempted a smile. It went poorly. 

“CFO? God, not in a million years. I want Renly’s job.” Mel giggled at the expression her statement had elicited from Stannis. “It’s no secret that Highgarden Global’s trying to poach him. And he’s all but leapt into their nets himself. If he leaves, and you take over from Robert … I want Renly’s job.”

Stannis nodded. Mel would make an excellent Operations Officer. She was brilliant as Head of Marketing but she could be so much more, if given the opportunity. 

“And perhaps this Targaryen girl could be persuaded to take my job?” Stannis’ lips twisted in derision. 

“If you could bring yourself to trust her.” Mel collected her food containers. “I’ll send out some feelers, ask my contacts in Europe. Perhaps this Targaryen girl isn’t the threat you fear.”

“And perhaps the sun will rise in the west tomorrow morning!” Stannis growled. His jaw moved and his teeth clicked. 

“Don’t grind your teeth!” Mel called over her shoulder as she left, shutting the door behind herself.

Stannis slumped over his desk, head in his hands. His jaw ached. He wanted to grind his teeth, it was one of the few things that steadied him in times of extreme stress or frustration. 

Instead, Stannis reached for his cellphone and dialed.

“Chataya’s Exchange. How may I be of service?” a smooth female voice on the other end of the line asked.

“My name is Stannis Baratheon. I would like to reschedule my appointment, if possible.”

“Certainly. If I could just have your client ID number, we can proceed.”

“Seven-seven-five-zero-one-three.” Stannis appreciated their discretion, and how the receptionist had not let any details about his history at Chataya’s slip to a potential blackmailer. 

“Thank you. Your current appointment is booked for Wednesday, at 1 PM. When would you like to switch to?”

“Anything after 4:30 PM, same day. With the same … ah … provider.”

“He is available for a session between 5 PM and 6 PM. Is that satisfactory?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Thank you for your patronage, sir.” 

Stannis hung up. He didn’t think he could commit to attending a session at Chataya’s and then going back to the office as if nothing had occurred, not this week. If Davos was as good as he’d claimed, Stannis intended to be limping and dazed for the rest of the evening, and in no fit state for thinking about Robert or Renly or the blasted board of directors until the next morning. 

~*~

“I don’t want to … ah … orgasm, today.”

Davos blinked. “Really, now?” He didn’t sound judgmental, only curious. 

“It will not be necessary.” Stannis said firmly. 

Davos tilted his head. “You say that now, out here, but what if you change your mind inside? Do you want me to hold you to this, or let you anyways?” 

“I … if I …” Stannis struggled to describe his desires. He knew what he felt, but voicing that was still a difficult process. “If I … beg, then yes, let me. But … you should punish me for it. I shouldn’t come today. My behavior has been … unacceptable. If I come, I should be home, thinking of this, alone, and … pathetic.” Stannis had gradually lost the ability to look Davos in the eye during the conversation. He stared at the edge of the red fake-leather couch. 

Davos sucked in a breath. “Fine, fine. Customer’s always right.” He leaned back against the couch. “Anything else?”

“I want … pain.” Stannis forced himself to look up at Davos. “That’s why I changed the time, I’m done at the office for the day so … you can go as hard as you can. I intend to be a … wreck, after our hour is complete.”

“Wreck. Pain. No coming. Got it.” Davos nodded. “That all?”

“Yes.”

“Alright then,” Davos stood up. “After you.”

~*~

The greenish-blue room had a calming effect on Stannis the moment he stepped inside. Some of the furniture had been rearranged: the mirror was against a different wall now, the spanking bench in a corner. Already, the tension was melting away. Stannis could feel his shoulders relaxing and the ache in his jaw fading.

“Get your kit off.” Davos said, locking the door. 

Stannis turned and considered him. “… no.”

Davos straightened up. He fixed Stannis with a glare that would have sent Highgarden Global representatives running from the room in tears. “What did you say?” his voice was pitched low and dangerous. Stannis wondered, not for the first time, who this man was, and what had brought him to this profession. 

“No.” Stannis felt a creeping sense of dread. He ought to obey, he knew but … he wanted to push Davos into punishing him. Severely, if possible. 

“Really?” Davos grinned, a malicious twist to his face that promised pain, and a lot of it, in the very near future. He circled Stannis, looking him up and down. “Think you got a choice, do you?” Davos took a step forward, and Stannis took a step back.

Stannis kept taking steps back, until his shoulders hit the far wall. Davos was so close his breath was hot on Stannis’ face, their eyes locking. 

“Now,” Davos leaned on arm against the wall, essentially trapping Stannis in place. “You’ve already made a big mistake. If you haven’t stripped down completely by the time I’ve gotten the chains in place, I’ll chain you up anyways and leave you there, for the full hour. I could get a bit of reading done. Don’t need to pay any attention to tossers who waste. My. Time.” Davos gave Stannis a significant look, and walked away, fiddling with the chains in a corner of the room and dragging one out. It was a long length of chain, looped around a winch on the ceiling. Davos reeled it out easily, into the middle of the room. 

Stannis had his shirt and shoes off by the time Davos had started dragging the chain out. His socks, pants, and underwear were quick to follow, laid carefully on the folding chair as before. 

Davos did not smile when Stannis walked towards him and stood beside the dangling chain. “Don’t look so smug with yourself. You’re not getting off that easy.” 

Stannis certainly hoped not. 

Davos took something out of the cabinet and brandished it out. It was a spreader bar, with two wrist cuffs at either end. They were padded dark leather with proper buckles. Without a word, Davos seized Stannis’ wrist and slapped one of the cuffs around it. He fixed the other cuff on as well, and then reached for the chain. One end of the chain had a clasp, which Davos opened around the spreader bar, and then snapped shut. He tugged on the chain, and Stannis’ arms were hauled upwards stretched up. It wasn’t painful yet, and Stannis wasn’t concerned about the blood flow to his extremities, but it did give Stannis a sense of vulnerability. Davos secured the free end of the chain to a hook on the wall.

“Nice, but a bit lacking …” Davos contemplated Stannis before inspiration apparently struck. Davos went to the metal set of drawers and pulled one out, rummaging around before pulling out another spreader bar, larger this time, with two padded cuffs attached on either end. He attached the cuffs to Stannis’ feet. Stannis stretched his legs out as best he could, starting to feel the strain in his arms and lower back. It felt good, to be splayed out and vulnerable, completely at Davos’ mercy. 

Davos didn’t waste any time in picking his tools today. He pulled out a flogger, long leather tails dangling, and made sure Stannis could see it. 

“You don’t have to count, but you can if you like.” Davos snapped the flogger in the air. “Bit chilly in here, eh? Let’s warm you up.”

The blows were erratic, stinging, and like nothing Stannis had ever felt before. He flinched far more than he had the previous week from the cane. Nothing he did lessened the pain from the tails, and soon his shoulders and lower back were burning. Stannis’ skin was on fire, like the sunburn he’d gotten from that dreadful corporate retreat several years ago in Hawaii. 

Davos was humming, under his breath. He punctuated harder blows with sharper notes, pausing in the tune to hear the snap of the leather against Stannis’ flesh. 

Stannis tried to plant his feet firmly on the floor, but the spreader bar was straining his muscles in just enough of a manner to make his footing uneasy. At any second he feared he might stumble. The chain would keep him upright, but only just, and the violent wrenching of his arms would be agony. Stannis resolved that, above all else, he would stay standing. 

The flogger lashed against his left shoulder for a fifth – sixth? – flurry of heat and pain. Stannis bit his lip to keep from crying out. If he started now, he would wear his throat raw before the session had ended. 

Davos continued to hum, and strike Stannis repeatedly with the flogger, for what seemed like more than the hour they had agreed to. Stannis’ entire body was beginning to ache, especially his legs and shoulders. His fingers were pins and needles.

He opened his mouth to call the safeword, to rest his arms before the bloodflow became a danger. 

Davos had already set down the flogger and was unhooking the chain from the spreader bar. “There you go, easy, easy …” he gripped the spreader bar Stannis’ wrists were still attached to and lowered it, holding it at Stannis’ hip level. “Saw your fingers twitching, not a good sign.”

“Thank you,” Stannis’ mouth was dry. He would need another water bottle once this session was completed, he could already tell. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Davos coughed. “Red, yellow, green?” he asked.

“Green.” Stannis said, bracing himself. 

Davos hooked the chain back around the spreader bar. Stannis smiled faintly as his arms were dragged back up into the air. He imagined himself being hauled up, up, up nearly to the ceiling, dangling, helpless … an impossible fantasy, but one that kept him steady as Davos flogged Stannis raw for several more minutes. 

Stannis was beginning to lose control. He could no longer bite at his lip and stop his sounds. He whimpered, moaned, and cried out as the flogger struck harder and harder. Stannis couldn’t imagine what his back would look like tomorrow, but the mere thought made his cock twitch in anticipation. 

He wondered, his mind a beacon of clarity in the sea of pain, whether he could come from this alone, whether he could get hard enough that one more strike from the flogger would wring an orgasm from him. 

Stannis had told Davos to punish him if he came, today. Stannis decided that it would be more than worth it. 

“Feel alright, lad?” Davos fluttered the strands of the flogger against Stannis’ burning skin. 

Stannis winced. “Oh … oh … _sir_ …” his cock was hard now, throbbing almost in time with the agony in his shoulders. 

“Think that was bad, do you?” Davos chuckled. “This was just to warm ya up. Got a surprise for you now. Since you were wanting a proper punishment.” 

Stannis heard sounds, eyes widening as he understood what they meant. Davos was undoing his own belt. Davos was going to beat Stannis _with his belt_.

Stannis’ knees buckled slightly. 

“Feeling a bit woozy are we?” Davos prodded Stannis in the shoulder with the handle of the flogger. “You say the word and we stop here, lad. I can promise you that.”

The burning pain in his shoulders wanted him to call his safeword. But Stannis shook off the temptation and straightened up. “No. Do it.” And then, because he genuinely did want this, he added “ _Please_ , sir.”

“Asks so nicely … seems almost a shame to be so cruel …” Davos mused. 

Then he struck, and Stannis understood the meaning of cruelty intimately. 

The belt was worse than he could have imagined. Strong and stinging, leaving thick welts on his already reddened skin, it sent shockwaves through Stannis’ body. It was worse than the cane had been last week, and certainly worse than the flogger. By far it was the worst across his shoulders, where Davos had “warmed him up” so recently. 

Stannis began to cry. First his eyes merely watered in response to the pain, then he felt tears dripping down his face. It never occurred to him to try and hold back, to restrain himself. His body was already restrained; his emotions were all he had left. His emotions, and the pain, which kept him tethered to his body and prevented him from drifting away.

And the relentless throb of his cock. Stannis did not regret asking Davos to refuse him the right to an orgasm. But he was not entirely certain he could hold himself back from the brink. 

Stannis began to count the belt strikes. First in his head, then aloud, always pausing to hear the crack and the snap of leather against his skin. 

“Christ,” Davos muttered. The whipping stopped.

Stannis panted heavily, wheezing and whimpering, He could not recall ever sounding this desperate before, though desperate for what god only knew. Sweat and tears dripped off of his skin, and his back was a burning, constant sheet of agony draped over his shoulders. Stannis twitched slightly, but couldn’t remove himself from the pain. It was stuck to him, like a cape made of thistles. 

“Had enough?” Davos asked. He was doing a good job of masking it, but he sounded a bit out of breath himself. 

Stannis wondered if he ought to stop. This was far more than he’d ever imagined himself capable of. The pain was bordering on unbearable, but Stannis wanted to see how far he could go. He blinked, steadying himself, tried and failed to slow his breaths to long, measured inhales and exhales. 

“No. Sir. Please.” His voice cracked only a little. “… more.”

“More? Well, if you insist …”

Stannis’ knees buckled on the next belt strike. He staggered on the fifth. 

On the seventh, he slipped and fell. The chain held his arms aloft, but his feet slipped on the floor. For a briefly terrifying and elating moment, Stannis felt completely and utterly helpless in his own skin, as if he could float away.

Strong hands seized him by the upper arms, and hauled him back upright. Davos unbuckled the wrist cuffs and let the spreader bar dangle in the air.

“No … no, please … I can take more …” Stannis protested, even as his vision swam and he pressed his hands against the wall while Davos removed the ankle cuffs. 

“No, you can’t. I’m not calling an ambulance for you and getting arrested for battery and assault, thanks very much.” Davos’ tone was light, but firm. “You want more, you find a bar and punch the bouncer in the face. Here, I have legal limits of how far I can go with a client.”

Stannis shook himself. “Yes … of course. I … I apologize.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Don’t be so stingy with your safeword though, alright? It’s there for a reason.”

Stannis nodded. His body felt dangerously weightless. “I … I think I’m about to faint.”

Davos guided him down onto the floor, and brought the blanket again for him to sit on. Stannis curled his legs beneath him, listing to the side, to avoid sitting on his ass and putting pressure on the marks streaked across him. Davos brought him a water bottle, which Stannis drank slowly. The weightlessness feeling subsided. 

Davos was inspecting Stannis’ shoulders, face inscrutable. 

“Stay.” 

It was not an order to be defied. Stannis waited.

Davos returned quickly. He was wearing latex gloves – Stannis remembered a series of boxes for allergies, including latex, on his application – and began applying some kind of disinfectant salve to Stannis’ shoulders and back. It stung initially, but eventually had a cooling effect. 

Stannis groaned in pain, but tried to stay as still as possible. 

“Now, there’s a few spots here that could use bandaging. Would you like me to do that here, or would you rather bleed through your nice suit on the way home?”

Stannis considered it briefly and shook his head. “No, please … if you would …” he nodded to the first aid kit Davos had brought over. 

Davos removed the salve-covered gloves and put on a fresh set. He reeled off lengths of bandage and secured them with medical tape over some of the nastier welts. Stannis knew, instinctively, that pulling off the bandages and tape from his reddened flesh would be even more painful than the whipping had been. 

“Plans for the weekend?” Davos asked, as he fixed another bandage in place. 

“Not – ahhhh – especially, no.” Stannis envisioned his weekly planner. 

“Would you like to plan our next session out, or would you like to leave it up to me?” 

Stannis hissed in pain as Davos bandaged an especially painful welt. “I … I … I am willing to leave things to your discretion, for next time. If you are willing.”

“’Course I am. How are you with humiliation?” Davos asked, removing his gloves and repacking the first aid kit. 

“Intrigued.” Stannis admitted. 

“Roleplay?” 

Stannis made a face. 

“I don’t mean costumes and elaborate characters. Nothing that developed. I mean … stock roles, to slip into. If you want to lose yourself in here, that’s one of the easiest ways to do it, have a role to try on for size.”

Stannis had dabbled in theater in college, participated in a club that put on amateur Shakespeare plays and the like. His commitments to getting Baratheon Inc. off the ground had swiftly taken precedent, but he hadn’t been bad according to his fellow students, and he sometimes missed it. 

“I could be persuaded to attempt that.” Stannis decided. 

“Lovely,” Davos finished with stowing the first aid kit away. “I’ll put something together for us then. I’ll text you some questions over the weekend, if that’s alright?”

“Yes.” Stannis nodded, making a mental note to change the security code on his phone for the third time this month, just in case. 

Stannis dressed, hissing in pain as his shirt grazed over tender skin. He was glad he’d had the foresight to leave his car at home today and take public transport, he couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting down right now. 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Davos shook Stannis’ hand. “Fewer strikes next week, yeah?”

Stannis attempted a smile, blushed, and hurriedly ducked out. 

~*~

Sitting down at work was agony the next day. Stannis had gone to sleep with ice packs and still he was sore. He tried to power through the morning, soldier on, and the twinges and aches did relax him during some stressful conference calls. But eventually the pain became too much of a distraction, and Stannis ducked out for an early lunch and picked up ibuprofen at a drugstore on his way back to the office. 

Melisandre was waiting for him when he returned.

“So, what’s her name?” she asked, finishing off the last of her bento box.

“What?” Stannis blinked, wondering how long he’d have to wait before taking his ibuprofen in peace. 

“You’ve been seeing someone.” Mel pointed an accusatory chopstick at him. “Last week you were … happy. Publically. That’s not like you.”

Stannis snorted. It was true, there was no denying that. He sat down on his chair gingerly. 

“And now, today … same thing. Only … more so.” Mel squinted at him. “So, what’s her name?”

Stannis sighed. He trusted Mel, she’d proven discreet before about their brief relationship, and she stood to gain by supporting him for the position of CEO and had nothing to gain by betraying him by making his personal life into common gossip. 

“I … I went online,” he said slowly, “and I found a … place. For people who want to be … dominated.” 

Mel raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

“It’s entirely legal, surprisingly, they’re very clear in their contracts about what is and is not allowed. I’ve had two sessions so far with a … man.” Stannis wasn’t quite sure how to explain Davos to Mel. ‘Looks like a dockworker and stared me down while I masturbated’ wasn’t going to paint the right picture. 

“Well,” Mel leaned back in her chair, bento box long forgotten. “That’s certainly not what I expected. So you’re _not_ having sex?”

“No, that’s not allowed.” Stannis shook his head.

“So what do you do?” Mel asked.

“He … well, he … beats me. Last week it was with a cane, this week it was with a belt.” Stannis shrugged. “Next week we’re trying something a little different, apparently.”

Mel nodded slowly, clearly stunned. “Oh.”

“It’s really quite soothing, in a strange sort of way,” Stannis admitted. “You were right. ‘Stress relief’ I believe you said.”

“I meant going out to a bar and finding someone to have a one-night stand with, or finding someone on a dating website, not … well, this,” Mel waved a hand in the air. “If it works it works, I suppose.”

“It does.” Stannis kept his face impassive. He fixed Mel with an intense glare. “So, what are you and your young lady getting up to behind closed doors?”

Mel glared right back. “You didn’t _have_ to tell me in explicit detail, you know.” 

Stannis deflated slightly. She was right, of course. She was always right: it was what had attracted Stannis to Mel initially, and also why they had ended things. “Sorry.”

Mel shrugged, indicating that she accepted his apology, but that it had been warranted. 

“Any news on the Targaryen girl?” Stannis asked, feeling a great deal more relaxed about the whole situation than he had before his session with Davos.

Mel looked relieved to be switching gears in conversation. “Yes. She’s been liquidating some of her assets and buying new luggage, according to my sources. She’s on the move, or will be soon.”

Stannis nodded. “Notify me the minute she touches down.”

“Certainly.” Mel smiled slowly. “And if she’s coming to take the company for herself?”

“The position of CEO is mine by right. I did as much work as Robert when we founded this company, certainly more than Renly ever contributed. I will not be supplanted by some young upstart barely out of college.” 

“No indeed,” Mel stood up. “I’ll keep you posted. Enjoy your … club? Dungeon?”

“Stress relief.” Stannis decided. 

Mel laughed and left his office. 

Stannis downed the ibuprofen and got back to work. 

As he was packing up to head home, he saw that Davos had texted earlier that afternoon. 

_Starter question. You’ve been bad. Are you a …_  
 _a) bad student_  
 _b) naughty child_  
 _c) disobedient servant_  
 _d) soldier_  
 _e) criminal_

Stannis felt a blush creeping up his neck. He weighed the options carefully. 

The student fantasy had been played out already, in a way, with the caning. As fun as that had been, Stannis wanted to try something else out for his next session. 

He didn’t like the idea of playing a child, there were too many associations with Shireen mixed up with that line of thinking for his taste, and as his own parents had died when he was young, Stannis felt he’d best explore that area in therapy, not mixed up with his kinks. Perhaps others found it helpful, but Stannis didn’t imagine he was one of them.

Stannis felt no pull towards military uniforms, though he had found quite a lot of amateur porn online featuring men in various states of military undress. 

The criminal idea he filed away for later. That would be a session where Stannis would like to be roughed up significantly, and Davos was planning something less intense in the way of pain for next week. 

He responded:

_If I picked C, what would your role be for that?_

Davos responded while Stannis was riding the train home (a blissfully quiet car with few passengers.) Thankfully, the ibuprofen had kicked in, so he could sit down at the end of the subway car. 

_Posh lord who owned the house, or the butler. Whichever you leaned towards._

Stannis smirked, glanced around the train to make sure no one was reading over his shoulder, and responded. 

_Then I choose C. I lean towards the ‘posh lord’ if you find that role acceptable._

_Hope your manners aren’t this good when it’s time for the session. I won’t have any reasons to punish you!_

Stannis snorted. _You’ll have plenty of reasons, I assure you. I’ll be appalling._

_Good, I’ve got some ideas. Hope your knees can handle it._

Stannis choked back a noise of … he wasn’t entirely sure, but he choked it back, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and hurried out the subway car doors. He’d nearly missed his stop. 

He leaned against the subway wall and texted another message to Davos.

_If I can’t, I’ll use my safeword. I won’t be stingy again, I promise._

_I’m putting you in my contacts as ‘Proudwing’ just so you know. Gotta keep the little black book anonymous. ; )_

Stannis snorted. _Still don’t know what to call you in mine. Is ‘Davos’ even your real name?_ Then he froze, terrified that he’d crossed some line.

_It is, actually. Used to go by other names in the early days. Too old to bother with all that._

_Oh yes, you’re ancient._  
 _(You can’t be more than 50, and that’s a generous estimation.)_

_Flattery will earn you no mercy next week!_  
 _(52, actually. If I were a woman I’d be drowning in clients, mature dommes are in high demand. Old doms, not so much.)_

Stannis frowned. He wasn’t sure how to reassure Davos without being blunt, so he settled for being blunt. _I have no intention of ending our arrangement in the near future. You have no cause to fear I will turn elsewhere._

_You’ll be paying for my pension, will you? Good to know. ; ) See ya next week!_

Stannis smiled, and headed home. 

~*~

There were coins everywhere, scattered all over the floor. Gold and silver and copper disks of varying sizes. Mostly American money, but Stannis spotted several coins from countries he didn’t recognize, and what could only be prop money with cartoonish king symbols stamped on them. 

“You think this is acceptable, do you?” Davos snapped, slamming the door behind himself. “When I come home I expect to have this place spotless, do you hear? Spotless.” He pointed at the floor. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Stannis blinked, then lowered his head and stared at his shoes. 

“I thought as much. You’re lucky I don’t fire you on the spot. Clean those up, now, and I’ll only dock your wages.”

Stannis crouched down to start collecting the coins. Davos kicked him, not hard, but enough to send him sprawling onto the floor.

“I don’t need your filthy clothes dirtying up my floor as well. Get them off, put them by the door.”

Stannis stripped, folding the clothes carefully, and placing his shoes precisely. He received no more kicks during this process, apparently Davos couldn’t find fault in how Stannis folded his shirt. Stannis glanced up and saw that Davos had retreated to an armchair – a new piece of furniture in the room – and was unfolding a newspaper. Davos put his boots up on a footrest, shiny looking boots that Stannis had never seen before. 

Stannis smiled, imagining that his future would involve polishing those boots. Then he sank down onto his hands and knees and got to work.


End file.
